In a Moment
by in-prose
Summary: A life is made up of a lot of moments. This just happens to be Beth's last.


Disclaimer: These aren't my characters. I just play with them and put them back. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**In a Moment**

Well, Beth had proof now. She had a word for what Paul is. Her love, her friend, her coach, her support is not her love or even her friend. He is a monitor. She had expected to feel vindicated, triumphant. She had more answers. More answers to the other girls. Cosima would love this. Alison would probably become even more paranoid.

Instead, she feels nothing. Not nothing. She feels the sheer absences. The pit just got deeper and she's falling. She taught Alison how to use a weapon, but she knew it wasn't enough. They still weren't safe. If Paul could be what he was, anybody could be. The last tiny bit of floor she'd been stand on was gone. The drugs didn't help anymore. They made her confused. They didn't dull. She had voices coming at her from all directions. Paul. Art. Doctors. Cosima. Alison. The German. The other dead women with her face. Maggie Chen. How could she be excepted to carry all the weight?

She drops her wallet into her purse. They need to be able to easily identify her. No getting confused. No running facial recognition. There can be no mistakes. She picks up her blazer from where it's hanging on the back of the chair. She slides it over her shoulders. The last time. She feels the relief in that. Not Beth. Not a police office. Not a clone. Not a killer.

She's in her townhouse. It's not hers, though. It's Paul's. She moved in with him because he owned the place. The furniture which only a few days ago had felt clean, sleek and modern is now cold, lifeless and barren. The apartment with no personal items except a few photos that felt like photoshoots. Or Photoshopped images. Not even real. Fake smiles. Fake stories. Fake memories. Fake love.

She leaves the townhouse, taking only her purse and the case with the surveillance equipment with her. The taxi isn't there yet. She loads the case into the trunk of her Jag and quickly returns the keys to the thing. She leaves again, locking the door behind her.

She waits less than a minute when the taxi rolls up. She gets gracefully into the backseat.

"Huxley station," she said and is surprised her voice sounds normal.

The driver nods without saying anything. The ride isn't long. The city is shining. It rained earlier and now the lights reflect of the wet pavement.

"$14.65," says the driver.

Beth hands over a twenty. "Keep the change."

"Thanks. You have a good night."

"You too." And Beth means it.

She gets out of the car and stands in front of the arrivals board. Which train?

Something starts buzzing inside her purse. She waits for the ringtone to catch up. It's not Cosima or Beth or the German. She pulls the black cell phone from the pocket. Art's name bounces almost cheerfully on the screen.

"It's not your problem anymore," Beth says and lets the phone fall back.

Almost at once, it buzzes again. She frowns. Art needs to stop worrying about his own ass. It's all going to work out. The inquiry will stop.

It's not Art. New message blinks at her. It's from Paul. She doesn't try hard to resist reading it.

'Hey babe. Won't be home for dinner. Sorry! Don't wait up. Love you.'

'Liar!' she wants to scream loud enough for him to hear wherever he is.

Tears burn in her eyes and spill over. The brave face is melting. The feeling of falling is back. Love you. Love you?! He has never loved her and she has known for years. But she loves him so she stayed. He is always so convincing.

Her life had split into two. The idea of herself as a single creature and the idea of herself as an us. A clone. Just one, I'm a few. No family too. Who am I? A clone. That one was becoming harder to separate. She'd lost herself along time ago. The girls became her only concern. Work. Paul. Life became secrets and paranoia and seeing her own reflection walking and talking and having its own opinions and being stubborn as all hell.

She doesn't want any of it anymore. Paul forced her off the pills and she's back to staring at what her life is. It's tangled and messy and Beth doesn't do messy. She does order and procedure. She can't find a way back. The tunnel is dark at both ends. She's grasping.

She lowers herself into one of metal chairs, still staring at the big, black board as the number flashing and change.

What about Alison? What about Cosima? Isn't this happening to them too? Count Cosima out. She's enjoying herself. She even switched the focus of the dissertation to better research their origin. Beth doesn't want an origin. She and Alison agree on this point. Somehow, Alison is staying above it all. She has her gun and she knows how to use it. She protects her family. She has a purpose. The others both has that: purpose.

Beth is lost and slowly descending into madness. She mentioned Alison to her shrink last week. The Doc was asking about what made Beth anxious and-like the brat she was-she started sarcastically listing every single thing and ticking them off on her fingers.

She had said, "Every time Alison calls." She hadn't meant to. She had tried to cover it up and keep going, but the Doc had seen the look that must've crossed her face.

Just when Beth thought the doc was going to let it go, she had said, "Let's go back to Alison. You've never mentioned her before.

Beth had lied and told some story about a friend from university who was going through a rough time in her marriage.

How could Beth keep these girls safe if she couldn't even keep her mouth shut?

She had thought that had been her purpose. Protect the others. It's the only thing she knew how to do. Protect and serve. She was a cop. Always a cop. But she wasn't even doing that anymore. What if her shrink was watching her too? What would happen if she let the name Alison slip again? Or worse Cosima? Or Katja? She could explain away an Alison, but the other two were far too recognizable. How many Cosimas did you meet? How many in Canada?

What would her creators do? What would they do to others she was in contact with? This was such a dangerous game. And Beth didn't want to play anymore. She couldn't play anymore.

She'd forced to play her entire life. If Paul is watching her now, who had watched her before? Her parents? Her first boyfriend? Her university roommate?

Had she ever had a choice in her life? Was her life part of the experiment? She images men in lab coats handing out careers. 'Let's make this one a scientist like us. We need to see how one reacts in a suburban environment. That one should be a detective just because.'

A northbound train arrives. The station is filled with people and noise. No one notices or bothers to help the stranger crying on the bench. They rush past. Heading towards home. Heading towards family. Heading towards regular lives without scientific experiments and without monitors and with a choice.

Beth flinches with every sound. All her senses seem heightened. It all causes pain. The world hurts.

She looks to the board again. Southbound train in eleven minutes and it's her ticket out.

She gets up and moves to the correct platform. There's six minutes. She paces, unable to keep her sobs quiet though she tries. The platform is empty now as far as Beth can see.

She steps out of her heels one at a time. The blazer slide off her shoulders. She folds it. She can't help it. She doesn't want to leave a mess. She hears footsteps.

She turns slowly. Another woman is on the platform with her. She's dressed in all black and leather jacket. Her hair is wild. She has heavy makeup around her eyes. Still, Beth recognizes the face. She's used to seeing it on other people.

'Oh God,' she thinks. 'Not another. How many can there possibly be? Hell, she can have my life. I don't want it anymore.'

The train whistle blasts. Beth steps away from her clone and towards the sound.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I may have it in me to do a bunch of little vignettes about all the clones if anyone is interested. Let me know!


End file.
